Demon in Disguise (A Broken Lives Short Story Book 3) Read online

  DEMON IN DISGUISE

  (A Broken Lives Short Story)

  Marita A. Hansen

  Copyright

  Demon in Disguise

  (A Broken Lives Short Story)

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2018 © Marita A. Hansen

  Editor: John Hudspith

  Cover design © Marita A. Hansen

  Cover photography by Tory Art

  and sourced from https://www.istockphoto.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means whatsoever without the written permission of the author, nor circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. For subsidiary rights inquiries email: [email protected]

  All characters, names, places, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  Copyright Page

  Lavinia

  Dante

  About the Author

  More Books by Marita A. Hansen

  UK English is used due to the Australian and New Zealand setting.

  All other variations are also due to where the short story is set, as well as the characters’ cultural and socio-economic backgrounds. This is why some characters use different speech patterns from others.

  This short story directly runs on from Smokescreen (A Broken Lives Short Story #2).

  LAVINIA

  “Mum, Mum, Mum!” Cleo yelled from the lounge.

  “I’m busy, Cleo!” I yelled back, frustrated with my ten-year-old daughter constantly shouting at me to come over. I was late enough with getting dinner on, I didn’t need this too. Work had run overtime because of a fight between two prisoners, which had ended in one of them being taken to the infirmary, the other to the hole. I’d never wanted to be a prison guard, I’d always wanted to be a fashion designer, but life didn’t go the way I’d planned. Nothing ever went the way I planned, like dinner tonight.

  I pulled out the fry pan and threw it on the stove top, knowing it was going to be fish fingers and a salad tonight instead of the roast chicken I’d wanted. Quick and easy, ready in minutes.

  “Muuuum!” Cleo screamed louder, making me want to scream back at her, having had more than enough of her bad behaviour. She was a demanding little minx, full of spice and sassier than a roomful of supermodels, which was partly my fault, the rest my husband’s. I’d dressed her up like a princess since she was a baby, while Joel was way too soft on her, letting her get away with anything. He also thought her rudeness was adorable, telling me to lighten up, that she was just a kid. But then again, he was incredibly rude too, so wouldn’t see Cleo’s behaviour as a bad thing, unlike me, who didn’t stand for it.

  I stormed into the lounge, ready to tell her off good and proper—until I saw what was on the TV. Or more like who.

  Dante Rata.

  Cleo jumped up as soon as she saw me, pointing at the image of my first boyfriend onscreen. Right at that moment, Dante lifted his hands and flicked the reporters and camera crew his middle fingers, yelling out, “Wankers!” before turning to a door. It opened before he could get a hand to it, and a stunning lilac-haired woman appeared.

  “Inside quick,” she said.

  Dante did just that, slipping inside an expensive Mediterranean-style house. The door slammed shut on the blonde reporter, who’d tried to stick her microphone through the opening, only just jerking it back in time to stop it from being jammed.

  She shouted out, “Clara, what do you think about this?!”

  When she got no response, the door remaining shut, the reporter turned to the camera. “That was Dante, New Zealand’s hottest rock star, and his partner Clara Hughes, who up until now we’d thought he’d cheated on. But it may be a case of mistaken identity. According to Dante, the viral sex tape was not of himself, but of his older brother, who apparently looks just like Dante. We will be following up on this story to find out exactly who Dante’s brother is and his connection to the famous L, who was also in the video.”

  I swore under my breath, knowing the reporter was talking about Ash. He was my best friend’s partner—or had been. Tiana had visited me the week prior, crying on my shoulder after Ash had walked out on her, their Australian trip turning sour. But I’d just thought it was a tiff they’d get over—like they had before, their breakup a temporary blip in the road to their happy ever after. Yet, Ash’s betrayal of Tiana wasn’t what made my heart bang against my chest.

  It was my daughter’s reaction.

  Cleo looked up at me with those lovely big eyes of hers, saying the words I’d dreaded hearing ever since she was born. “Why does that man look like me, Mummy?”

  And Dante did look like her—or Cleo looked like him. Although her hair was considerably longer, it consisted of the same black waves, while her dark brown, almost black eyes were a mirror reflection of his. And it wasn’t just her hair and eyes that matched, her bone structure and even the curve of her lips were eerily similar.

  “Mummy,” Cleo said, still looking up at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need to go to the toilet,” I said, rushing off, feeling like throwing up.

  I ran into the toilet and closed the door behind me, leaning against it, not knowing what to say to my daughter. She thought her father was my husband, who I was currently separated from. Joel and I had a rollercoaster of a relationship, where we’d get together, have the most amazing sex, a honeymoon period of pure bliss, then I’d get annoyed with him for slacking off as well as being rude and stupid, while he’d get annoyed with me for “constantly bitching” at him, his wording, not mine. We’d fight, split, go our separate ways, miss the hell out of each other and get back together again, then everything would repeat. But this time he’d found someone new, making me scared that our separation could turn into a divorce.

  I placed a hand over my rapidly beating heart, unable to handle any of this. I was stressed enough as it was, I didn’t need more stress lumped on top, especially with my money issues. Joel had missed his last child support payment, which meant I didn’t have enough to pay the rent. I’d had a screaming match with him over the phone because of it, which had resulted in him hanging up on me. Though, in all truth I was being completely unfair on him, since he shouldn’t be paying any child support considering he wasn’t Cleo’s father. And he knew it, Cleo’s resemblance to Dante irrefutable. Still, he hadn’t noticed it straight away, Joel slow on the uptake. It also helped that we’d moved to Australia before Cleo’s birth, putting distance between us and Dante. And Joel probably would’ve gone on believing Cleo was his daughter for much longer if it hadn’t been for a Christmas card that Tiana had sent a few years back, one with a photo of her, Ash, and their son on it. Angelo had looked like he could’ve been Cleo’s twin, their resemblance uncanny. Except they weren’t twins, they were first cousins, something that Joel had clearly seen. He’d thrown the card at me, calling me evil, then had walked out on me, leaving me an emotional wreck. He eventually forgave me, coming back because he loved both me and Cleo.

  Only love wasn’t enough.

  Which was why I was alone again, and caught in an even worse predicament. What would I say to Cleo? That her father was the famous rock star known solely as Dante, the man who had gotten mothers up in arms, trying to get his music banned from YouTube since he was too... What were the words they’d used to descri
be him? Provocative. Pornographic. They’d also called him a bad role model, the poster boy for sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll, the very epitome of what was wrong with the music industry. Ever since I first saw him on TV, I’d been dreading this, afraid that someone would point out how much Cleo looked like him. The more famous he became, the more afraid I became, knowing it would happen sooner rather than later.

  I shook out my hands, willing myself to calm down, knowing that I either had to tell Cleo the truth or make up a plausible lie. But first I needed to tell Joel, especially since Cleo thought he was her father.

  I pulled out my mobile phone from my navy-blue work pants and dialled Joel’s number, nervous about talking to him and even more nervous about telling him about what had unfolded.

  The phone clicked through, his voice coming over the line. “What is it now, Lavinia?” he asked, as though I’d been pestering him constantly, his tired sounding voice almost resigned to an argument. It made me sad that I’d provoked such a reaction. I didn’t like arguing with him, never liked arguing with him no matter how much he frustrated me. I wanted him back in my bed, cuddling me, while I twirled my fingers around his long dreadlocks.

  I exhaled, then just went for it, ripping the bandage off the festering wound. “Cleo saw Dante on TV. She asked why she looks like him.”

  “Fuck, I knew this would happen. What did’ja tell her?” he asked, his New Zealand accent... or more particular, Māori accent strong. It hadn’t softened one bit in the years we’d been living in Australia, which was more than a decade, ever since we were sixteen, Joel having stolen the money to pay for our plane tickets.

  I exhaled again, still trying to calm down. “I told her that I needed to go to the toilet and hightailed it out of there. What do I do?”

  “Jesus... Why the fuck did that cunt hafta become famous?” he growled, never having liked Dante. “All this would’ve been all right if his face wuzn’t plastered over every bloody magazine, paper, and telly screen.”

  “Regardless, we need to choose what we’re going to do about it. Shall I tell her he’s her father or make up a plausible lie?”

  He went quiet.

  “Joel?” I asked, needing him to tell me what to do. I was usually the one telling him what to do, but this... it terrified me.

  He sighed audibly. “Tell her the truth, then make him pay the child support instead of lumping me with it. I’ve had enough, Lavinia. I’m struggling to pay my own bills without having to continually pay for someone else’s kid, no matter how much I love my li’l girl. But that’s the problem, she isn’t my girl, she’s Dante’s.”

  “But Cleo thinks you’re her father.”

  “Well, I’m not,” he growled. “And I should never have agreed to raise her as mine. I only did it cos I loved you—”

  “Loved?” I said, his use of past tense cutting me.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t, Joel. You know I still love you, with all my heart and soul. Please come back.”

  He went quiet again.

  “Please, Joel, that woman can’t mean more than over a decade of us being together,” I said, mentioning his new girlfriend, a skinny blonde with fake tits, who looked the complete opposite to me. I was three quarters Tongan and a quarter Japanese, although I was born and bred in Auckland, New Zealand.

  “That’s the problem, Lavinia,” Joel finally answered, “you and me ... we haven’t been together this whole time. We constantly break up, and you wanna know why? Cos you’re never happy with anything I do. I never bring in enough money for you, never take you to places you think you deserve. You also constantly tell me I’m stupid, patronising me even more, and you think I wanna return for more? That woman you mentioned treats me a helluva lot better than you do. She makes me feel like a man not half a one cos I don’t earn a shitload of cash. She doesn’t even complain when she has to pay for things that I should be payin’ for cos a chunk of my money is goin’ to you, supporting a kid that isn’t even mine. I’ve had it, Lavinia, get that bastard to front up and pay for his kid. He’s Cleo’s father, not me.”

  “I can’t do that, and you know it. He was thirteen when he got me pregnant. I could go to jail.”

  “You were only three years older than him, a kid yourself.”

  “He was underage, I wasn’t.”

  He growled, “I still don’t understand why you went with him, that’s so fucked up, Lavinia. You made me believe he wuz stalking you when all along he wuz your boyfriend. I even bloody hit him for you. I should’ve seen you for what you were back then, dodged the bullet—”

  “Joel!”

  “It’s true! You screwed Dante, then screwed me over. This is it, Lavinia. I’m not payin’ a cent more to child support. Get that rich bastard to pay for his own kid or pay it yourself. You’re not freeloading offa me anymore.”

  “What about Cleo?” I said, close to bursting into tears, tonight going to hell. “I won’t let you see her anymore if you do that!”

  “You cut me off from seein’ the kid I’ve been payin’ for ever since she wuz born and I’ll go straight to the papers, tellin’ ’em who Cleo’s real father is.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Try me,” he growled.

  “But I can’t ask Dante for money. I can’t!”

  “Why not? He never ratted you out for fucking him, doubt he will now. Maybe if he finds out he has a daughter, he might actually throw some cash your way to shut you up, especially since he has a missus. Isn’t he living with that hot purply-haired chick? I read ’bout it in the papers that she used to be his school teacher. Maybe he won’t want her finding out he’s got another sproglet out there.”

  “Are you suggesting blackmailing him?”

  “It’s not exactly blackmailing, plus he should pay for Cleo, she is his.”

  I grimaced, not liking that idea at all, the risk involved. “If I treated you better—”

  “Whoa, hold up, Lavinia, you ain’t using me anymore. If anything, you bloody earn more money than me. And it’s your fault you can’t pay for shit with the way you spend money.”

  “I won’t be using you, I love you, Joel. I miss you.”

  “Miss my money, more like it.”

  “No, Joel, I miss you. I love you so much.”

  He didn’t reply, only breathing coming through the line.

  “Please, Joel, come back, both Cleo and I miss you like crazy, and I know you care for her like she’s your own flesh and blood. I know you care for me too. Don’t let money get in the way. I won’t pester you about it anymore.”

  “You will when a big bill comes up. I’ll never earn enough for you, Lavinia. You wanna be treated like a princess, yet you wanna be with me? I earn shit—”

  “You’d earn more if you got a real job.”

  “See!” he snapped. “That’s the problem. I consider what I do a real job, yet you’re always puttin’ it down.”

  “Playing base in a cover band’s a hobby, not something that pays the bills or puts food on the table.”

  “On your table, feeding Dante’s kid. You really do have a nerve, woman. And I want my own child, my own flesh and blood. Jessica wants to have babies with me, wants to raise a family that comes from me not some other dude.”

  “Okay! If you come back, we can have another baby.”

  “Or more like I can have my first baby, but it still won’t fix the money issue, it’ll make things worse. One more mouth to feed.”

  I grimaced, knowing I had to bite the bullet to get him back, and he was right, Dante should be paying for Cleo, not him. “If I ask Dante for child support we could afford to put not only food on our table for four, but you could continue playing base without me hounding you. Dante is wealthy, he’s probably got money to throw away. If I convince him to help pay for Cleo, will you come back?” When he didn’t reply, I continued, “We won’t be struggling anymore, which means we won’t be fighting over money, and most of our arguments stem from mone
y issues.”

  “Why do ya even want me back? You’ve called me a dumb shit so many times.”

  “I don’t mean to, and I love you, Joel. Have always loved you. It’s one of the reasons why I ran away with you.”

  “No, you ran cos you were pregnant with Dante’s baby.”

  “I admit I ran because I was scared, but I was also scared I’d lose you if I didn’t run. No matter what I say about you, I’ve always been obsessed with you, Joel. I love you, baby, and you are so damn sexy it’s not funny. I miss playing with your dreads, miss twirling them around my fingers while I kiss you. God, Joel, I can’t imagine being with any other man but you.”

  He went quiet for the umpteenth time.

  I pushed on, willing to lay everything on the line for him, “Please don’t give up on us. I’ll sort things out. How about I ring Tiana, get some advice on how to approach Dante?”

  He huffed. “What can she do? Ash left her. He’s fucking that hermaphy chick. He’s always had a thing for L, pro’bly would’ve gone with her from the start if he hadn’t gotten Tiana preggers.”

  I grimaced. I still couldn’t believe that the famous guitarist everyone called L was in fact Llewellyn Davies—the little redheaded ‘gay boy’ I’d gone to school with. At first, I hadn’t even realised that Dante’s guitarist was one and the same person as the kid from my Year Eleven class. Tiana had to point it out to me, because L looked nothing like he—or was it she—had in high school, since L was intersex.

  “Poor Tiana,” I said, knowing she was heartbroken over her split with Ash. She’d visited me while in Sydney, coming over the night Ash had left her, crying on my shoulder about losing the love of her life. I’d ended up crying too, the both of us losing the men we loved. But still, I’d honestly thought she’d get back with Ash, those two made for one another.

  Joel grunted. “I don’t feel sorry for her. That stupid bitch shoulda seen it comin’ cos no bird as hot as L hangs around a guy like Ash only to be friends. We all knew L had a tiny boner for Ash from day one.”